by Mark August
“You look remarkably healthy for a person with no experience with a sword who fought three thugs. You should be dead and floating face down in a canal.”
“Imagine my surprise when I woke up here.”
“Did you get arrested for the fight?”
“I don’t remember being arrested.”
“Then what happened?”
“The structure collapsed. The floor fell through, and we fell two stories.”
“A structure in the city collapsed from the inside? Without a fire?”
“It’s hard to believe. The last thing I remember was falling.”
“You need a better story when they come to question you.”
Twenty-Two
Attius - Report
News of the building collapse put the Duke and Duchess of Caesea on edge. Fires were dangerous in the city with stacked buildings and dense population, but destruction from the inside was different. First reports indicated the building belonged to a master craftsman, and the structure was sound. Investigators needed more time to interview witnesses and neighbors. The household worked silently, avoiding the Duke’s attention.
Attius joined his wife for a private dinner in their quarters. The servants didn’t need to hear their conversation, and their children weren’t part of the plan yet.
Livia put down her silverware on the side of her plate. "You're dying to tell me you were right."
“And why would that be?”
“Because we may need your plan.”
“This time, I don’t want to be right.” Attius didn’t look up as he carved a sliver of meat on his imported china and forked the savory duck into his mouth with a polished silver fork.
“We don't know what happened.”
Attius Atros put down his silverware and cupped a wine goblet. He leaned back in his chair and admired his wife. He sipped the excellent vintage from one of their vineyards on the mainland.
“No matter the story, the conclusion scares me. The Magi, the mentor of the city’s sorceratti, fears magic emerging in our city. A city that punishes magic with death. As we put a plan in motion to counter magic, a wizard tries to kill our daughter, our sorceratti. Within weeks, a building collapses without a sign of fire or flood.”
“I don’t need the full lecture, Attius.” She, too, picked up a goblet of wine and stared at him over the rim.
“What other conclusions can we come to?”
“Are you sure the floor came down all at once? Maybe it was a house built too high on top of a weaker structure.”
“From a master carpenter?” Attius snorted. “This isn’t a random event.”
Livia pushed back from their private table and sipped her own wine. Her eyes never left her husband as her forehead crinkled in concentration. Her face relaxed and then continued. "What do you plan to do?"
“Protect our house and the City Council. The Council must give us more power to chase down these forces. We must solidify the agreements with the other houses and make our treaties and laws stronger. And we need to stamp out this magic.”
“That’s years of work, Attius.”
“I have weeks.”
“Then make an example of our prisoners. Show the Council we respect the laws.”
Attius rubbed his chin and placed his goblet back on the table. That was a good short-term plan, but something still bothered him. “Perhaps, and we will end up with an execution in due time. But we are missing something, and an executioner’s axe will conceal it from us forever.”
"Cormac?"
"Yes, Magi Cormac is on my mind. He will continue to play his role in this. He may not willingly do so. And I always wonder."
“You will leave him chained in prison? That’s dangerous.”
"For now, yes."
“We don’t know enough about the chains he forged, and we tied up a wizard in a dungeon with too much time to think. This is the most dangerous plan you’ve tried to execute.”
Attius nodded. If she couldn’t see the concern on his face, she knew him well enough that this plan had too many undesirable outcomes. When Attius put plans into motion, he liked the outcome to be inevitable.
"Cormac will do his duty. But I think we should warn our sorceratti." He wondered if he was convincing himself or his wife.
"But Vedette already questioned the wizard."
“She needs enough space to explore her new role. None of us understand what it’s like to be a sorceratti. But that’s not the wizard I’m worried about.”
“She already defeated a trained wizard. This one—”
“Is one that we know nothing about.”
Attius pulled himself back to the table and picked up his utensils. He sliced pieces of meat with slow and deliberate cuts. If he was scared, only his wife would know it.
Twenty-Three
Vedette - Challenge
Vedette leafed through the book in her lap. Her eyes didn’t register the words as her mind raced to distracted corners. Magic in Caesea. A simple volume on the role of the City Council’s law. She understood the negotiations between the families to agree on the sorceratti. The balance of power between the families was the top-most concern from the city’s founding, and the fear of imbalance from arcane power brought an agreement together.
As a sorceratti, she needed to learn more about magic than Cormac taught her. The wizard who came into her room to instruct her was different than Cormac in every way. Magic affected the man differently than her magi, and she didn’t know enough to understand why. After the fight, she also felt different.
Sunlight poked through her shutters as she glossed over the words again. A knock at the door interrupted her line of thinking.
Early for the servants. “Enter.”
The man who entered the room was the lord of all the servants and Duke of the city. Vedette placed the book on her side table and stood in the presence of her father.
“Good morning, Vedette.” His voice was natural and strong. Vedette sensed a serious tone, and his posture remained rigid.
“You’re becoming a regular visitor, Father.”
“In House Atros, we need a strong relationship in our family. I expect the Duchess also visits you.”
“So not a family visit?”
“Unfortunately, no.” His tone softened. “Several days ago, we captured a wizard—”
“—An assassin?”
“No, he was living in the city for years.”
“That doesn’t rule out a killer.”
“No, but I find it unlikely.”
Vedette knew she couldn’t assume every wizard in the city was an assassin. After all, she was friends with most of the sorceratti from the other families. But the thought of unknown wizards in the city with agendas hostile to the houses was enough to set Vedette’s teeth on edge.
“Why tell me?”
“Because we have a prisoner that can wield magic. He nearly destroyed a stone shop in our district.”
Vedette paced in front of her windows. She paused in the morning light warming the room and faced her father again.
“What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t understand magic or the people we’re dealing with. I need you to be prepared in case something goes badly.”
Listening to her father’s uncertainty was a new experience for Vedette. He was the ultimate planner, and his ideas could take months or years to come to fruition. Coming to his youngest daughter to explain that he didn’t know what he needed was a significant step.
“Then you should free Magi Cormac.”
“No.”
“He knows more about magic than anyone in the city. He understands the threats we are facing. I trust him.”
“I don’t know how to make this any clearer. No.” The rigid posture was back, and the command tone was unmistakable.
“Yes, Father.”
“My concern is to protect our family. I don’t know if Cormac is a threat or an option. The one I can trust is you. I need your help, sorc
eratti.”
Vedette fought for the next words. Her father took her breath away with four simple words. She gathered her composure. “You never said that before.”
“I know, and I mean it.”
Twenty-Four
Kincaid - Sentence
“You should eat something. You’ll have visitors soon.”
Kincaid pulled himself up to a sitting position. Laying in the old straw made him itch, and feeling sorry for himself wasn’t helping his cause. The prison warmed with natural light from the small windows at the opposite end of the jail. Instead of bread and water, Kincaid found thick stew and a half loaf of bread.
“Last meal?” He didn’t move toward the offering on the floor.
“I doubt that. They haven’t interrogated you. Besides, I want to keep you around for a while.”
“So you can amaze me with your witty charm?”
“You’re welcome.”
“For?”
“I use my personal account to pay for better food.”
Kincaid winced. He didn’t need to be a jerk to the one person who kept him company. “I didn’t know, and that was unfair of me. Thank you. Will they let you buy a few hours out of your chains?”
Heavy metal rattled as Cormac looked at his hands and his feet. “I would give the rest of my fortune for a few minutes out of these irons. I’m a victim of my own design.”
Kincaid tested the food. The stew was thick with brown gravy and meat, and the bread was soft and warm. He tore into his meal.
“I wish you a long life if you’re buying the cuisine.”
Coming up for air from the bowl of food, Kincaid analyzed the chains as best he could from the next cell. When he studied them, he saw forged steel in thick links. They looked strong enough to restrain a warhorse. But when he glanced off to the side and caught them in the corner of his vision, he noticed a glow. Something from within. Cormac accepted the scrutiny in silence.
“Cormac, you don’t look like a dangerous killer or a man known to bend bars with his bare hands. Why the chains?”
“There are physical threats, and there are political threats. I think the Duke is sending a message.”
Kincaid used the bread to clean every drop from the bowl. “We seem to be short on visitors, so I can’t imagine who is getting the message. I hope it’s heard by someone. How long have you been here?”
“Time is an elusive master. I lost track after the first few days, and I can only guess it's been two weeks. If I wasn’t in chains, I would’ve marked each day’s passing.”
Kincaid looked over at the wall where he scratched the passing days in his cell. “I don’t know why I’m here. I’ve never met anyone in a ruling family, and I can’t think of a law I’ve broken that would catch their attention.”
“Your fight must have something to do with it.”
“I’m not sure, Cormac. They were thugs. Just thugs… maybe it was the sword I had.”
Cormac chuckled. His laughter was deep and strong. The echoes filled the room as if a crowd laughed at him, and Kincaid hoped the guards at the end of the prison wouldn’t investigate. They didn’t make a move. “Your sword wouldn’t be interesting to a noble family. The city guard would take care of you for that, and a few days in prison and maybe a public beating would have been enough.”
“Are you just going to keep laughing at me?”
“I think we’ll have more conversations. I don’t think you’re going anywhere. Believe me, I know.”
The guards stirred from the other end of the prison. Anxious voices carried down the cellblocks, and the thud of their boots followed. The pair adjusted their uniforms and waited near the door. At least they ignored the prisoners.
After an exchange of voices outside, the pair of guards maneuvered locks and bars to allow the outsiders to enter. Daylight from the wide opening blinded Kincaid. A tidal wave of salty smells, earthen fields, and smoky fires restored hope to Kincaid’s failing spirit.
Kincaid squinted as the light created silhouettes of each visitor. As the door slammed shut, his eyes adjusted again. The clang of locks and thud of crossbars echoed with finality in the prison. He made out a tall man accompanied by a woman with two guards in tow.
The man and the woman stopped at the iron bars in front of his cell. The woman shot several glances toward Cormac and then focused on Kincaid. He’d have to ask about that later.
“Kincaid, journeyman carpenter, you are a prisoner of House Atros.” The man intoned the words as if they belonged to a formal proceeding. Kincaid dropped to one knee and didn’t look up at the figure.
“My Lord. I don’t understand why I’m here.”
The laughter boomed throughout the prison, and the guards shifted their weight and fingered their weapons. The woman remained unmoved.
Kincaid got back to his feet and didn’t know where to put his hands. His fingers fidgeted as he addressed the man who owned his fate. “My lord, I don’t understand.” He glanced over to the woman and realized she was about his age. Young, but she carried herself as an older person. Something about her eyes. The deep voice brought him back.
“You are charged with the use of magic. According to the laws of the city, the penalty for magic is death. You present a clear threat to the people of the city and my family.”
“No. I’m a carpenter.” Those words slipped out of his mouth in disbelief.
“You used magic, and you are sentenced to die.” Kincaid’s hands grabbed the prison bars, and his legs became weak. He held himself up for a moment and felt fires burn in his chest.
“My Lord, there has to be a mistake. I work with my hands with wood—”
“To destroy city houses made of stone in the very heart of my district.”
“I even crafted a table for a commission for your house.”
“Then we will have the object destroyed. We will not risk your magic.”
“But I didn’t.”
“The people in your shop said otherwise.”
“But…” The words were gone. He didn’t have a wise quip or a logical argument to confront the inevitable.
“Let what I said sink in. When we return with more questions, consider what is at stake. If you comply, I am the one who may stay your execution.”
Kincaid stood transfixed by those words. His fingers wouldn’t let go of the cold bars, and his feet wouldn’t move.
For the first time, the woman spoke to fill the empty air. She mimicked the command tone of her male companion, but she didn’t have the same practice. Her brown eyes held a deep intensity and passion without the calculating aspect. Kincaid was sure the deep brown eyes had flecks of blue. “Think very carefully about what we are offering to you. You won’t get a second chance, and it may determine how you will die.”
Kincaid’s mouth moved without words. The burning energy filled his chest and calmed his spirits. His hands dropped from the bars, and his back straightened. The guards moved in line with the man and woman and drew their blades. The man gestured, and they relaxed.
Kincaid let the fire burn from within and looked into their eyes. “I will show you magic had nothing to do with this.”
“Consider what we said.”
The Duke smiled for a moment and then turned with the woman and the guards away from the prisoners. In a few short steps, they were waiting for the door to be opened. The light faded away as the door slammed shut, and the smells of the free world disappeared too fast. The fate of his life in prison settled in his soul.
Kincaid was alone with his thoughts, and his fellow prisoner wisely stayed silent.
Twenty-Five
Vedette - Other Houses
“Greetings, sorceratti of the House of Atros.”
“Pietra, stop it.”
Vedette sat at the inn table. Slipping away from her personal guards took a concerted effort, but having bodyguards posted at the door to the Crossed Roses Inn wasn’t the right message.
The children of many of the ruling houses favored th
is inn over the dozens across Caesea. The island was small but one closest to the mainland, making travel to the city’s Grand Dock simple. The city guard maintained a watch in a large stone tower to observe the approach to the collection of islands, so this district was safe. The inn owner knew many of his patrons were from noble families and treated all his customers like honored guests.
Politics stayed at the door.
“Vedette, does your family know you’re here?”
“No. I think they forgot my name because every conversation starts and ends with sorceratti. Even my parents. They think everything I do is official family business.”
“Everything isn’t?”
Vedette enjoyed letting a chuckle come naturally. In a moment, a servant appeared at the table. He stood to the side until the nobles recognized his presence. Stepping forward, he took their order for drinks and returned to the bar. Mugs appeared moments later, and Vedette handed him three coins. She waved him off.
“I wish everything didn’t have to be official. Every waking moment is about a power struggle somewhere. I hope not between us,” Vedette said.
Pietra of House Gaelus was a young woman who ignored the social norms of family politics, and this was just one reason Vedette met her before talking to the other houses. Only a year older than Vedette, she was the youngest of her house and training to become their sorceratti. Vedette didn’t care how much power her friend could pull in; she needed someone who could understand and listen.
“So, what happened to you? I’ve only heard the stories.”
Vedette paused as the memories of her fight's final moments made her heart pick up its pace. She wanted to summon her power, to calm her spirits and give her the strength to carry through this discussion. But she couldn’t do that here, and not with Pietra.
She’d understand the agony in her heart, but the longing for power in her soul was different. Pietra would understand the changing nature of a relationship with a family. A friend indeed.